The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond
by Silver Fox5
Summary: Christian's POV. After Satine's death, Christian writes another story, Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge or any of its characters. They belong to their respective owners.  
  
Author's Note: Please be kind, this is my first ever attempt at a Moulin Rouge fic, and I hope it turned out alright. I'd like to dedicate this story to my best friend Quintia, who loves Moulin Rouge as much as I do. So please read and review!  
  
The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond  
  
Chapter I  
  
By, Silver Fox  
  
It was the day after. The day after my life ended. The day after she died. It was also the day after a part of myself had died with her. My naivety and false illusions were now as dead as she was. I wasn't sure where my heart stood on love. Love had seemed to fail me. I gave my love and all my heart to her, as she did to me. We thought love could conquer all. I learned that death could conquer before anything. My thoughts could only dwell upon one matter: What if? What if I found out she was sick? What if we had left that night as we had planned? She might not have died. She might be here with me. We might be happy together. But such did not happen. Satine, the Sparkling Diamond of my heart is dead. As the days after amounted into months after, I lifted myself from my own hell of absinthe and drugs and did her honor as I had promised. I had promised to write our story so she would always be with me. And I kept my promise to her. I wrote our story, the story of the Moulin Rouge. As I typed it, mixed emotions flooded over me. At some points I was joyous, other times I was weeping. But despite the internal battle, I really could almost feel her presence in my room. When the breeze blew in and wiped the tears off of my face, it felt like she was wiping them away. But the story I wrote then is not the one I will tell now. For now I tell a much different story. This story is about me, and who I've been forced to become without her. For now, I tell of my renaissance, my rebirth into the world as a different person. This memoir is titled: The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond, because it dully shows what was left behind by Sparkling Diamond herself, Satine. However, this story begins with me, because it is my story.  
  
My story begins on yet another day after. The day after I finished our story. I had thrown another letter from my father into the fireplace and watched the flames engulfed it. He had begged me, no, ordered me to come home to where I belonged. Little did he know I could never go back there now. I could not go back to the place of my old life. That Christian didn't exist anymore. All that was left of the man he used to be were the fragments of myself. I could never go back to England, back to my father, back to my old life, pretending everything here had never happened. Living my life here had changed me, changed my outlook on life. I watched the once detailed and beautiful paper become reduced to nothing but ashes. I knew it now was like I was. I trudged myself from the fire and back to our story. For a time, I just looked at it. I didn't read it; I merely stared at it. This was just another reminder of the person I used to be, and I didn't need it then. I picked up my coat headed out the door to walk the streets. I admit, my curiosity to see it again had been growing. I got outside. I was looking at the village of Monmatre. However, it was not the place I'd seen when I had first arrived. I thought the place had changed, or perhaps it was my perspective on it that changed. When I first came here, I saw the opposite of what my father had told me it was; 'a village of sin.' Instead I saw a glorious place filled with the free spirits that I had aspired to be. The village had been full of writers, painters, and musicians. Yes, the children of the Revolution. Perhaps I had chosen a bad day to come out into the world again, because there was no one out in the streets that even remotely resembled what I was looking for. The gray clouded sky and fog hanging down in the streets was not how I remembered it.  
  
I had expected to see what I had seen before, but I guess that would have been impossible, seeing as how I didn't see anything the same way anymore. Still, I walked about the streets, looking for something that reminded me of why I was here. But, the truth was that even I didn't know what it was I was looking for. I guess I was expecting some sort of divine intervention. I wandered the streets until I reached an absinthe bar and stopped to get myself a drink. I had gotten quite used to absinthe, and seeing the green fairy. Sometimes I even talked to her, and I could have sworn she answered me back. I never tired of seeing her. The man at the bar was starting to talk to me.  
  
"Who are you?" He asked me.  
  
"I am no one important," I informed him, "I'm just a poor man getting a drink."  
  
"You're not from around here, are you?" He vexed me yet again, his curiosity in me obviously growing. Perhaps he was just lonely. Perhaps he was a bad person. Either way, I couldn't have cared less at that point.  
  
"I suppose that depends."  
  
"Depends on what?"  
  
"Depends on what you mean by around here. Because I have lived here for about a year, yet I hardly remember it."  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
His inquisitive nature was severely agitating me, so put money down, and without a word, got up and left.  
  
"Hey, where are you going?" He called out, but I didn't pay him any mind. I had more to do than explain myself to an absinthe bar worker. I knew where I was heading next. On the way I went through a dark alley, and in it found two women. I knew what they were. I could tell by their looks, the way they were dressed. They were courtesans. And they were trying to get some money out of me.  
  
"Well, well. Who do we have here?" The blonde one spat, as she carefully looked me over.  
  
"Looks like he's a handsome one, if he'd just fix his hair and shave that beard," said the red haired one pointing at my uncombed hair and scraggly beard. I had let myself get this way because I didn't feel I had a reason to keep appearances any more. I stared at the red haired one for about a second. Red hair, just like Satine's, I thought. She had obviously taken this the wrong way.  
  
"Oooh, looks like he's interested in me." She silkily draped her hands around my shoulders. "So, how about you spend the night with me? I'll make it worth your while, for a price."  
  
I felt nothing toward her, yet I couldn't stop staring at her hair. It looked almost exactly like Satine's hair. The color, and how it seemed to flow down her shoulders. It brought a painful memory to my heart. I brushed her hands from off of my shoulders. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."  
  
"Why? What's the deal?"  
  
"You remind me of someone." I brushed past the both of them, putting my hands in my pockets after putting my jacket collar up. It was getting windy, and chilly. Still, I knew where I was going. I walked past a man begging for food. I barely looked at him. I knew I should have cared, but I didn't. I didn't care about anyone right then and there. I just kept heading where I knew my mind was taking me. So much for a village of love, I thought bitterly as I saw a sick child in the gutter. Finally, my destination was in my sight. It really wasn't far away, but I had wandered so far off to begin with. It was across from my flat. It had been so long since I had seen that looming red windmill, which was now stopped completely. I had finally reached what once was the Moulin Rouge.  
  
Author's Note: What did you think? This is my first Moulin Rouge fic, but it might turn out good. Please, give me reviews! I'll gladly read anything, any and all criticism accepted. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge or it's characters. If I did I'd be lucky, but I'm not, so I deal with it.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed this first of all. I appreciate any and all reviews that I get. I think this may turn out good. Again, this is dedicated to my best friend Quintia. (By the way, you should review her work too; she's an excellent writer.)  
  
The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond  
  
Chapter 2  
  
By, Silver Fox  
  
And there I was, standing in front of the place where it had all began. It was here that I knew my life changed. How funny, it seemed like it was just yesterday. Just yesterday I came here with Toulouse and first saw her. Just yesterday I fell in love with her. And just yesterday we had each other and nothing else mattered. But the tomorrow of that yesterday has come, and I find myself standing here a broken, empty man. Merely a shadow of what I once was. Nevertheless, I stared at the facade of the Moulin Rouge. How tattered and worn it looked now. It didn't have the energy you could have once sensed from it. Now it seemed.dead, as dead as its star was. I brought myself to walk up to its door. I placed a hand on it. I felt nothing but cold emptiness. It seemed the two of us were very much alike, no longer living because she was dead. I took in a deep breath and pulled the door open, and in doing so I broke a long spider's web that had been growing on it. I cleared it with my hand. I stepped inside, and my assumption of the place couldn't have been more correct. The place had died.  
  
It was no longer the exuberant colorful dance hall that I once knew, or even the elegant theater it had been turned it into. Much like the biggest part of me, this place was a void, an empty void. I walked through the garden and to the former theater. There was a coating of dust covering everything in sight. Everything smelled dank and damp. When I had opened the door, a dim light lit up part of the room. I walked to this area. This was once where the audience sat on the opening, and closing one night performance of Spectacular Spectacular. There were still chairs here, though most of them were overturned and age worn. I sat down in one of them and looked at the stage. It quite resembled an empty platform now that it had fallen to ruin. That stage held so much on it. That stage was the one that I shunned her on. I threw money at her feet, because I thought she didn't love me. It was ironic; I was acting out a scene that I myself had written. And it was on that stage that she sang to me, and I understood. On that stage our love had conquered the obsession of the Duke. For a few brief moments, that stage was out pedestal. We were so high. Then, that stage turned into the floor of hell as she died in my arms on it. As I looked at the stage thinking of all it had been, I realized that now it had not changed since the last time I saw it, it was still that same floor of hell, but now it looked the part. There wasn't much for me to do except sit and stare, until I heard something rustle.  
  
"Is someone there?" I called into the darkness.  
  
"Only the shadows," a downtrodden voice answered.  
  
I got up out of the chair and strained my eyes. I could just make out a figure sitting in another chair across the room.  
  
"I am a shadow myself. Why don't you tell me who you are?" I beseeched the figure.  
  
The figure stood up and started to move into the light. Almost immediately, I knew who it was. There was no doubt in my mind about that. The only question I had was how to oppress my strong mixed emotions. I felt so many things toward him. I felt hate, anger, fierce loathing, and at the same time pity, sympathy, and some form of compassion toward him.  
  
"Christian." He looked me in the eye as he entered the light. I looked back at him, my face void of emotion. I didn't say a word, as did my face, but my eyes burned with feeling. I said nothing to him.  
  
"Christian, I.I don't know what to say."  
  
Again, I didn't utter a word to him.  
  
"Christian, I, well, I never thought you would ever come back here."  
  
I sighed, lowering my head to break eye contact for a moment, then raising it to meet his eyes again.  
  
"Well, Zidler, I think it was my destiny to return here."  
  
This time it he who did not say a word. He merely looked at me with his sad blue eyes. It was now I noticed how different he seemed. The Harold Zidler that I remembered was a robust, energetic and exuberant man. He always seemed to have a sparkle of energy about him. Now that energy was no longer there. He was not as robust as he once was. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and his voice now lacked the fullness and booming quality that it once had. Like me, he seemed to be reduced to something less than himself.  
  
"Zidler?"  
  
He looked me in the eye, and it was such a depressing look that I couldn't help but shiver a little. "Christian, why are you really here?"  
  
I was a little surprised at his question. Hadn't I just told him why I was here? I guess he wanted more of an answer. Problem was; I wasn't sure I could give him anymore of an answer.  
  
"I guess I came back here because I'm part of her legacy, and this place is as well. I wanted to see how it was affected." I looked at him. "It seems you are a part of her legacy as well."  
  
He sighed a heavy sigh. "That I am. We are a part of her, legacy you call it? We aren't a very impressive one, then are we?"  
  
I had a long awaited question burning inside me. I only hesitated to ask it because I feared I could not control myself if I heard the answer I expected to hear. Still, this fierce desire had to be answered, or it would haunt me much longer than I would like. I decided to take a shot.  
  
"No, I suppose we are not. Zidler, there's still something that I'm not quite clear on."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
I breathed in deeply. "How long did you know?"  
  
He looked confused. "Know?"  
  
"How long did you know she was going to die?"  
  
He became utterly silent. It seemed he couldn't bear to look me in the eye anymore. I could feel the repressed anger I feared would come out slowly surfacing.  
  
"Zidler? Are you going to answer me?"  
  
He was still silent. It seemed that I had touched upon a delicate subject for him. Either that or I struck a nerve. Either way, it didn't matter to me. What I wanted was an answer.  
  
"I can correctly assume that you knew, is that right?"  
  
"Yes, I knew."  
  
Already this was bringing about my mixed feelings. "How long did you know?"  
  
He finally started talking, yet he still wouldn't look me in the eye. "It was the day I saw the two of you together. Satine was going to meet you, and I told her to tell you that it was over and to go to the Duke."  
  
Just the mention of the Duke caused my blood's temperature to dramatically rise. "What else happened?" I coolly asked him.  
  
"She passed out. Marie called the doctor and she never made it to you or the Duke. It was then the doctor told us she was dying."  
  
The cold distinct day was coming back to my memory. I remembered that the next day she had told me she was sick. A wall of bricks was falling on me now. If only I had known how sick she was. If I had known, I would have taken her far away, so she could get better. If I had only known, but I hadn't.  
  
"Did you tell her?" I asked him, still controlling my voice.  
  
"No, we didn't tell her. The show had to go on. All of our futures depended on that show. The show depended on her."  
  
I could no longer control all of my repressed anger, and as I had feared, some of it was leaking out. Before I let any out, I wanted him to see it. "Look me in the eye, Zidler."  
  
He finally turned his head up and his gaze met mine. His eyes told a thousand words he could never have said, and I understood every word. My eyes in turn were also saying things, but I let my mouth do the talking.  
  
"Do you realize you killed her?" I obviously frightened him, but he was fighting showing it.  
  
"It wasn't just me."  
  
"Well you certainly did help. Why didn't you tell her?" My voice was getting raised.  
  
"I couldn't. At the time-,"  
  
"Don't give me that 'at the time' crap." Not being able to control myself any longer I grabbed his shirt collar and now my voice truly reflected the anger that I felt. "You pushed her so hard. You knew you were killing her, but you pushed her anyway. People can recover from consumption with rest, but you pushed her to her death!!" I screamed at him, and I'm sure I must have had at least one tear escape my eyes. He stared at me, wordless. He didn't seem to be able to speak. My grip on him tightened. Then, I heard something. I heard a clanking clunking sound. Like the sound of, high heels? My grip on him loosened as I turned to the stage to see where it was coming from. I released my grip on him and walked over to the stage when I saw who walked out across it.  
  
"Well if it isn't Mr. Shakespeare," she scoffed at me.  
  
I merely stared at her and said in a monotone voice, "Nini. Nini-legs-in- the-air. What a pleasure."  
  
Author's Note: I hope that wasn't too bad. I may write more, if I get feedback, so please review! Oh, and for some other great writing review my best friend Quintia's work, she'd appreciate it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; please don't sue me!  
  
Author's Note:  
  
The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond  
  
Chapter 3  
  
By, Silver Fox  
  
I found myself staring up the predator I knew only as Nini-legs-in- the-air. She hadn't changed very much. She still had that hunter's gleam in her eye, and that savage tinge in her voice. She was stalking along the stage in the general area I was near. She was still the vulture, circling her prey. But this time I refused to let her have it her way. I glared at her with my eyes turning to stone. Try as she might, she couldn't phase my unwavering glare. Shaking her head, she finally gave up the pursuit and sat down, positioning herself at the edge of the stage, right in front of me.  
  
"Well well, if it isn't the great writer himself. Never expected to see you 'round here, today of all days."  
  
I didn't know what she meant, but I didn't let her know. I knew, that at all costs, I couldn't let her get the upper hand. If she did, then I knew my situation could become dangerous. So I kept my control.  
  
"Why are you here exactly anyway?" She was trying to make me give her the answers that she wanted to hear. I knew that. I knew that any conversation with her was battle, and I couldn't afford to lose. So, I decided to give her a cryptic response.  
  
"I'm here because I was meant to come here."  
  
She narrowed her blazing eyes at me. "Really. You were meant to come here?"  
  
"That's correct. I'm here for the same reason you're here."  
  
Apparently I had stirred something. "Oh really?"  
  
I had to hold in the urge to smile. I was getting the upper hand and she knew it. And she wanted it back. "You are a part of her legacy as well."  
  
I seemed to have touched a nerve when I mentioned 'her'. Nini knew exactly whom I meant, and her hatred was starting to rear its ugly head. "Is that so? I'm a part of her legacy? Satine, I take it you mean?"  
  
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of a smile cross my lips. I had her on the defense. She was trying to act calm, but I saw right through her, whether she knew it or not. "Yes, Satine. We are all apart of her legacy, because she touched us all and changed us as people. You, me, Zidler, and even the Moulin Rouge itself. We've all been changed by her, and therefore she lives on, in a sense, through us all."  
  
Anger was starting to flare up within her eyes. Maybe she thought I was dead wrong. Maybe she knew I was right. Either way, she was now covering her anger. "Well well, it seems Mr. Shakespeare is always right and all knowing, now isn't he?" She had slipped off the stage and was standing very close to me, obviously trying to do something. Whether it was to seduce me or intimidate me, I can't be sure. Nevertheless, I stood my ground and refused to move.  
  
"Why don't you write a story about it, if you know so much?"  
  
"I just may do that."  
  
This was not the answer that she expected. She refused to look the part of being caught off guard, but I sensed it. "Well, isn't that fine and dandy for you." She had turned on her heel and started to huff away when I called something out to her, not being able to resist.  
  
"Why are you so angry, Nini?"  
  
She stopped dead in her tracks. Then she turned around to face me with the most disgusted look on her face I have ever seen. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Why are you so angry?"  
  
"What makes you think I'm angry?"  
  
I decided to go out on a limb and test my theory. "I think you were jealous of Satine."  
  
Her eyes just about exploded, as her face refused to. "Why in the world would I have been jealous of that red-haired harlot?"  
  
Against my kinder judgment, I was having fun seeing her so tortured and frustrated. I guess at the time I thought I was getting revenge for Satine. "Because she was the star, and you just fell short of that. Don't think I didn't notice the red windmills on your old can-can dress. You thought if it wasn't for her, then you could have been the star. And you were wrong. You know you were wrong because," I spread my arms, gesturing to dusty tattered walls. "Now that she's gone, the Moulin Rouge is no more. You see, Nini? You could never have been and never will be the star. But you can't accept that, can you? You can't accept the fact that Satine still controls your fate even after her death." I felt so relieved after I had vented all of this. I felt Satine would have been proud of me.  
  
She, on the other hand, was ready to spit nails at me. She knew I was right. That was why she was so angry with me, I told her the truth. The truth she just didn't want to hear. That's why she didn't answer me. For a time, she just stared at me, trying to break me down. Her gaze tried to penetrate me, but I made myself a fortress. I wouldn't let her disturb me even the smallest bit. Finally, she looked away from me. She looked behind me, to Zidler.  
  
"Are you hearing all of this, Harold?"  
  
His depressed eyes only looked to the ground.  
  
"You agree with what he's saying, then? "  
  
"Yes."  
  
Her nostrils started to flare. "Really, because I don't believe we have to be controlled by Satine still. She's dead. She's dead and she's not coming back."  
  
"But Nini," I turned around to look at Zidler this time. "You were the one to tell the Duke that Satine and Christian were lovers. To me it seems like you always had it out for her, and therefore you had it out for all of us."  
  
Now my anger was rearing its ugly head. Now I knew. She was to blame as well. "Really, Nini?" I started moving towards her. "It was you who tipped off the Duke. You were that jealous of us? You were so selfish that you had to do that?" The volume of my voice was becoming unstable and out of my control.  
  
"So what if I did?" she defended herself. Though she was backing up while she was talking, trying to put on a confident air, but all I could sense was resentment. "I did what I still do now, I refused to let her control my future. I took it into my own hands; I'm not ashamed of that. I'll never be ashamed of that, no matter what anyone says, especially you, Christian.  
  
The light in front of my eyes was starting to turn to a shade of scarlet red. My pain and anger were beginning to control me. Against my better judgment, I put my hands around her neck. I didn't think then, I only felt. I felt relief as my hands tightened around her neck and she began to gag. I felt such a relief of pressure. Part of me feared that I would kill her, but the other part of me didn't give a damn. Zidler was now trying to get me to stop, but I elbowed him in the gut, and pushed him away. A maddening rage was filling me with terrible desires. The desire to see her dead, the desire to see him dead, and the desire to burn down the infernal place, among other things. Her face was starting to turn blue as her fingernails clawed into my hands. I heard screaming and other cries but it was all so far away to me that I didn't pay it mind.  
  
Suddenly, I stopped. My criminal desires had suddenly vanished. I released my hands from her neck and she fell to the floor, coughing and desperately gasping for air. I put my bleeding hands to my sides and stood still. I felt something on the back of my neck. Instinctively, I just stood still, and did nothing. It was this thing on my neck that had made me stop myself from killing Nini. It felt like cold steel was pushing against my skin, pointing upwards toward my brain. It felt very much like a gun. I heard a familiar voice from behind me.  
  
"My my, our own penniless sitar player."  
  
I took in a breath and held it. I knew who it was. "And you the Maharajah, sir Duke."  
  
Author's Note: 


End file.
